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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25507069">Maelstrom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagalaBee/pseuds/MagalaBee'>MagalaBee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn Spoilers, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:13:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25507069</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagalaBee/pseuds/MagalaBee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There were moments when Naesala considered the same tragic path of the king who came before him. Where he thought about freeing himself from between the rock and the hard place he was crammed into..</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Peculiarity: FE Small Writer Zine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Maelstrom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It was an absolute honor to write this piece for Peculiarity! I encourage everyone to go read the other pieces in this collection, support the free zine, and go PLAY PATH OF RADIANCE!!! Naesala is my favorite character, he deserves some more love.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was a slight buzzing in Naesala’s ears as he stared at the papers on his desk. All of them were from Begnion, signed with the initials of various senators, but never their full names. It was the barest semblance of deniability, should any of these requests be seen by others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out one index finger, pushing the top papers about his desk as Duke Tanas’s latest request drilled its way into his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what the buzzing was. The echo of his chuckled, sickening words. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like a white heron. You’re friends with the last one… such a creature of beauty would be the center piece to my private collection. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The raven king often felt claws in his stomach-- guilt eating him away from the inside out in tiny bites and scratches-- but now, those claws sank deeper. He felt them turning his insides to ribbons as it dawned on him exactly what he would have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reyson was the last friend Naesala had left. A bond forged in their childhood, when he taught the forest prince how to “properly climb trees” and Reyson pushed him into the river to see if he knew how to swim. The memories of happiness and laughter were ones that he clung to. But those halcyon days would be lost if he went through with Duke Tanas’s disturbing request.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet… what choice did he have?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mark on Naesala’s wrist began to itch and burn. Naesala cringed and rubbed at it, pushing up his sleeve and glaring at the mark as he tried in vain to scrub it away. The brand had etched into his skin the day he became the King of Kilvas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One sick joke after another… The buzzing in his ears grew louder, like the whistle of gusting winds among the arid peaks of the island. He winced again at the sound and stopped trying to peel off his skin, instead pressing the heels of his hands into each ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dastards,” he hissed under his breath. “Perverse, nauseating dastards!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naesala stood up from his desk, pacing to the office balcony. As if to further mock him, there was hardly a breeze today. He looked down at the steep drop below. The royal palace of Kilvas was built on the side of a cliff, with intricate carvings along every pillar and wall that displayed the history of their people. Tales of trickery and freedom hard earned, yet here he was, beneath the yoke of the beorc senate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to him that he could throw himself from his own balcony. Bind his wings to his back to make sure his head would be dashed upon the spires and rocks below. A bloody and swift end to a contentious reign. But then who would get the brand next? He had no children or siblings. His cousins had all died in the cursed plague.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some long distant bastard grandchild of two kings past? A four-times removed relative who still had one drop of royalty in them? They’d wake up one morning with searing pain in their arm, find the mark of blood upon it, and then hear the news that King Naesala had committed suicide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m stronger than you,” he muttered under his breath, thinking of the ghost of his late uncle, the previous king who had slit his own wrists and left nothing but a note that said he was sorry. “I won’t let those filthy beorc kill our people. I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naesala looked up from the drop, his dark gaze fixing on the horizon. The palace overlooked the spit of sea that laid between Kilvas and Phoenicis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reyson was across that sea. So was Tibarn. And an island full of people who would curse his name for the rest of his life. Memories of Serenes summers would be forever changed… but what other choice did he have?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the lives of thousands weighed against the captivity of one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naesala blinked. A storm was brewing on the horizon. Dark clouds gathering with the promise of thunder and rain. That must be why the air was still. Kilvas was in the middle of the calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that thing you once told me about our people?” he muttered to himself once again. “Something about how one should never let a corvid fly in your shadow...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smirk grew slowly over Naesala’s lips. The blood pact with Begnion required him to follow the orders of the Senators, or the Red Fever would return to Kilvas and kill more and more people everyday. But there were no stipulations about what he did after their requests were fulfilled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As long as he wasn’t caught, he could sell Reyson to Duke Tanas, break Reyson out of his confinement in the same night, then use the money to pay off the other Senators.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One chance, Naesala,” the young king chuckled to himself. “You’ve got one chance to pull this off, or the wrath of unholy hell will be unleashed upon you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a dramatic sweep of his wings, Naesala went back inside. There were plans to make and little time to accomplish them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beware the crow you cannot see, Oliver.”</span>
</p>
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